Red, White and Blonde
by lege et lacrima
Summary: When Gellert Grindelwald came careering into Albus Dumbledore's life, something definitely changed. Whether for better or worse is all a matter of speculation. Modern-day AU. No magic. Grindeldore. -Lacrima-
1. Chapter 1

**Red, White and Blonde**

A/N: 'Sup cats and kittens. Had a worryingly overwhelming urge to write some Grindledore yesterday, and after running it through my head a bit, this is what I came up with.

It's a modern day AU of my take on what happened when Dumbledore and Grindelwald were all friendly-like in their youth. Modern day because making everything all Ye Olde-like is such a friggin' hassle and it means I get to play around with dynamics, and AU 'cause somewhere along the lines of my half-assed planning I decided against this being a magical universe. Once again, for the fiddling of dynamics. Also, Aus are fun. So you've been warned.

By the way, I own nothing; Lord JKR does. And this level of ownership will not change over the course of this fic, so I ain't gonna bother putting disclaimers in every single chapter. Just sayin'. Laziness ftw.

* * *

_Chapter One_

Albus Dumbledore was sitting on one of the chairs outside the headmistress' office waiting to be called in. He absent-mindedly prodded the foam protruding from the worn squishy chair on which he was seated, wondering whether the school purchased that type of chair pre-ripped, for every single one he had ever seen was ripped in at least one place. Sure, the more logical explanation was that the chairs were old as hell and the school's budget didn't extend to replacing them, but it amused Albus ever so much more to imagine a used-chair factory. Just think, with a specially-designed robot claw whose sole purpose was to rip fabric in such a way to perfectly mimic the actions of a delinquent teenager. Charming.

"Albus Dumbledore?" a voice called from within. Albus picked up his school bag and headed into the headmistress' office.

"Good afternoon, Ms Buxton," Albus said, smiling politely. While it had not been explained why the headmistress wanted to see him, he had guessed. And his guesses tended to be rather accurate.

"Good afternoon. You're not in trouble Albus, don't worry." She held up a sheet of paper. "I need to discuss with you your subject selections for this year.

Ah, so Albus had been right. This meeting was almost inevitable, but that didn't stop his wishful thinking. "I hope it was all in order. I would dread the thought that I would not be allowed to do one of my subjects."

Ms Buxton sighed. "I'm afraid that's exactly it. More than one of your choices has not reached the minimum number of students for a class. Physics, geography and Latin, to be precise."

"Surely you can make some special arrangements," Dumbledore replied, still smiling good-naturedly. He knew full well that she knew full well that he was easily the brightest student in his year, and presumably the school. And to stifle a gifted child was tantamount to murder… or so a speaker had said to the school at assembly just a week beforehand. Surely she would remember this. It was a given.

"Albus, even if we could, there's still the matter of the _number_ of subjects you selected. Maths, English, chemistry, physics, biology, history, geography, economics, German, Latin… even if I could make a class for all these subjects, they could not all be timetabled to fit in a single week. You'd have to be in three places at once! So if you were to do all the available subjects except one or two, everything can be worked out smoothly."

Albus was silent for a moment. He had anticipated all of this. And he had also thought of a perfectly viable solution. "You have textbooks, yes?"

"Excuse me?"

"For the subjects that I will apparently not be able to do. You _do_ have appropriate materials if, I don't know, I taught myself."

"Albus, what you are proposing is ridiculous."

"Maybe not so ridiculous. I would have adequate resources. If I have any questions, I can ask the perfectly qualified staff."

"You cannot possibly teach yourself four or five subjects. It would be far too difficult, and your marks would most probably flail in all your other subjects."

As much as she wanted to spout all she had learn from teachers' conferences, Ms Buxton knew that Albus would be more than capable of teaching himself, and handling the workload. Hell, he could probably _teach_ the students better than some of the teachers. Most of the teachers. He was just too friggin' good. And Albus knew it, too. No matter how calm and polite he seemed, there was no way he wasn't aware of his outstanding academic prowess. It would be a crime not to let him learn. That speaker she had hired for assembly for last week had said so. And even if she forbade him to learn in his own time, there was no doubt that he would do it anyway.

"Oh, very well, I will look into making some arrangements. Will you be planning on sitting assessments for these subjects?"

"Of course."

Albus thanked his headmistress and left her office. Excellent.

Albus pushed open the front gate. The hedge needed pruning again. The hedge always needed pruning. Nobody had the time or could be bothered neatening it up, but with enough persuasion Aberforth could usually be coerced into doing a half-assed job every now and again.

"Good afternoon!" Albus called as he opened the front door. He picked up the mail. Bill. Bill. Advertisement. Letter from his pen-friend in Germany. Bill. Advertisement. Nothing out of the ordinary. He pocketed the letter from his pen-friend and headed into the kitchen for a snack.

Whilst tucking into a cheese and avocado sandwich, it finally hit Albus why the house was so quiet. Where was his brother Aberforth? Usually he was making all sorts of racket at this time of day, but today there was no sign of him.

Albus got up and headed upstairs to Aberforth's bedroom. This didn't bode well.

He knocked on the door. "Aberforth? Are you in there?"

No reply. Albus pushed open the door, and was met with the sight of his younger brother sitting on the end of his bed and looking like he was about to cry.

"Aberforth? Are you alright?"

"Ariana's been taken back to the hospital."

"Ah." Albus sat down next to his brother and put an arm around his shoulder. Their younger sister had a very rare and severe bone disease and was constantly in and out of hospitals for examination and trial treatments. No matter how frequent these hospital visits became, it still affected the whole family, especially Aberforth.

"I mean, I know it's all routine, but what if something goes wrong? What if they find out it's worse than they thought? What will we do?"

"It will all be fine," Albus reassured him. "They are working on finding more treatments. Apparently there is this new treatment extracted from shark livers…"

But Aberforth wasn't listening. He didn't want to hear about shark livers. Most people don't.

* * *

Okay, so short chapter and I haven't really gotten into anything. This was more of an intro than anything. Okay, more like half an intro. I'll post more tomorrow or the day after, promise!

Liking it so far, though? The entire tone of this could very well change over the coming chapters. Hur.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hi, me again with chapter 2. I don't really have much to say... this chapter actually has Grindelwald in it! So yeah, you may have to be a bit patient with this; I seem to be prone to short chapters. But that just means that there'll be more of them! That's good, right?

* * *

**_Chapter 2_**

Albus walked down the street, humming to himself, arms laden with books. The headmistress had conceded his request to teach himself geography, Latin, physics and chemistry, and so he was in a rather good mood. God knows what he would have done if she hadn't pardoned him. Borrowed textbooks and learned them anyway, most probably. There was no way in hell Albus Dumbledore was not going to learn what he wanted to.

Passing a thought to what he would make for dinner (the task of cooking meals had been passed to him whilst his mother oversaw Ariana's hospital visit), he failed to look both ways before crossing a usually empty road. And, as a result, did not notice the inhabited wheelie bin that was hurtling towards him at a startling rate until it was much too late.

"OOF!" Albus exclaimed as the bin collided forcibly with his side, knocking him over and scattering textbooks across the road.

"Oh shit, that was SO good! I think an encore is in order," a blonde youth said, sticking his head out of the top of the upturned wheelie bin. He caught a sight of the winded Albus sprawled on the ground and grinned inappropriately. "Oh sorry Ginger, didn't see you there. Next time look both ways before crossing. Even for streets as depressingly deserted as this. You never know when an uncontrollable delinquent having fun will come out of nowhere. Shame on you. Shame on all you small town hillbillies and your inordinate amount of learnin' books."

Getting to his feet and brushing himself down, Albus looked curiously at his assailant. He was still talking incessantly, but Albus had lost track of what he was saying. Instead, his attention was drawn to the slogan in German blazoned across the boy's tight black t-shirt. It was simultaneously very crude and very clever. Albus smirked.

"Hello. I haven't seen you around before; are you new to these parts?" Albus enquired good-naturedly. In the small town of Godric's Hollow, new people were few and far between.

"Yeah, just moved here from Germany." Well, that explained the slight accent and the shirt. "Living with my great aunt. God, it's boring around here. Like, terribly boring. I have been to a fucking _box factory_, and it was a hell of a lot more fun than this place."

"A small town like this would take a bit of getting used to, I'm guessing," Albus replied. Who is your aunt? I probably know her." Indeed, Albus knew almost every single person who lived in Godric's Hollow. Almost everyone in Godric's Hollow knew almost everyone in Godric's Hollow. That was the way things were.

"Bathilda. Bathilda Bagshot. She's a crazy old coot, but she ain't so bad. You know her?"

She lived across the road from Albus. How convenient. This bizarre young man would be just a stone's throw away. Albus still couldn't decide whether he was a perfectly charming fellow, or a complete nutjob. Still, always best to assume the best in people until proven otherwise, which is why Albus consented to walk home with Gellert (as his name was revealed to be).

By the time they had arrived on their street, Albus had concluded that Gellert was disconcertingly entertaining. All the way home he had made a combination of lewd jokes and intelligent observations, chased pigeons, heckled small children on three separate occasions and licked a lamp post. Whether this was a bizarre attempt to entertain Albus, or that he just so happened to be a raving lunatic, there was still considerable debate. But while this did not alter Albus' initial conclusion that Gellert was friendly and open, and he found he rather enjoyed the other's boisterous company. Despite it not being the sort of company Albus was used to, who associated more with the quiet intellectuals like himself, he found himself thoroughly enjoying being in the blonde's company.

"Well, good to meet you, Al," Gellert said, offering his hand to Albus.

"It has been a pleasure," Albus replied, rearranging his book-laden arms to shake Gellert's hand. Gellert couldn't help but notice him wincing slightly.

"You alright? Look like you're in a little bit of a hell of a lot of pain right there."

"I might have injured my hand when you crashed into me, but I'm sure it's nothing."

Gellert grabbed Albus' hand. It was much purpler than it should have been.

"Your wrist should not be that purple. And it should not hurt _this much_," he twisted Albus' hand, who yelped and whimpered in pain, "When I do that. And you should not have carried a million billion massive fucking textbooks with it. Oh well, your problem. Bye!" And on that note, he waltzed across the street to his great-aunt's house.

Albus inspected his hand. Yes, it hurt like hell. Yes, it was probably more serious than he liked to admit. No, he did not want to do anything about it. He had a Mount Everest of homework to do, and he wasn't going to let a little thing like a potentially broken wrist slow him down.

"… and thus was a major contributing factor towards the Liberalist movement in France," Albus said aloud to himself as he finished off the paragraph of his history essay. He put down his pen and groaned quietly. His hand was killing him. He was sure doing two pages of maths homework, completing a biology worksheet and writing half a history essay was _not_ the smartest thing to do.

He was definitely going to see to it.

… After this essay was done. He must prioritise.

"_If you believe that's how it's going to be I better let you do-o-o-o-o-ownnn…_" Aberforth sung very badly at the top of his voice. His music was cranked up to almost full-volume (the only benefit of having his little sister and mother away is that no-one bothered to yell at him about this), so it wasn't until almost three minutes later that he realised that Albus was calling his name from the doorway. He spun around on his chair, turned his music down. His brother was leaning against the doorframe and breathing heavily.

"Can you get me to the hospital? I think I've broken my wrist…"

"Well Albus, you should have definitely come to me straight away," Doctor Friday said, simultaneously examining Albus' X-Ray and giving him a disapproving look. Aberforth had gone to their next door neighbour, Elizabeth, and begged for a ride to the doctor's surgery. Albus had then recounted the events of his afternoon to Elizabeth, then to the doctor's secretary, then to Doctor Friday. It was starting to get a little tiresome, and every recollection made Albus feel like an idiot.

"I should have. But I had other things on my mind, and so many things to do. I reasoned it could wait until later. It wasn't so bad at first; ignorable."

"And they say you're a smart boy. My son Augustus always complains that you beat him in maths. So how about next time you use that big brain of yours and do the right thing, okay?" Albus waved his bandaged right hand, and he, Aberforth and Elizabeth left to go home.

"So who was this guy you said you were with?"

"Gellert. He's Bathilda's great-nephew, and he just moved here. He's quite interesting."

"Didn't he say anything about your hand? If he was a halfway decent person he would have taken you to Friday in the first place. Then you wouldn't be in such a bad state. And I am NOT finishing off your stupid essay for you. You can write it left-handed for all I care."

_If he was a halfway decent person…_ Albus pondered the thought. Was Gellert a horrible person? He certainly hadn't offered any help. But he hadn't ignored Albus' pain, either.

The more he thought about it, the less sense Gellert seemed to make.

* * *

Hmm? Now that the story's progressing a little, do I get reviews?

And the song Aberforth was (briefly) singing was Tightrope by the Electric Light Orchestra. Yay for projecting music tastes onto characters =D

(No really, it's quite a bad habit. Don't let me be too obvious about it in the future.)

- Lacrima.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: 'Ello, me again. Don't really have much to say, but thanks to all you dudes that reviewed, favourited and all that shizz. It's pretty rad ^^; keep 'em coming!

Anyway, have a chapter three.

* * *

_Chapter Three_

Albus strode confidently through the school gates, before pausing and waiting for the struggling Aberforth to catch up. Not that Aberforth usually had trouble walking, of course, it was just that he was carrying some of his incapacitated brother's textbooks and folders on top of his own, and Albus has _far_ too many textbooks and folders in Aberforth's opinion. And that opinion was probably entirely justified, considering how hard Aberforth was panting under the effort.

"Ah thank you, Aberforth," Albus said genially, trying his best to overlook the disgruntled look his younger brother was shooting him. "Now, if you could just carry my stuff to the Oaktree Quad, that would be marvellous."

And still, Aberforth's glowering of a lifetime did nothing. Sure, Albus had a broken wrist. Sure, he was his brother. But that didn't stop the fact that he'd been carrying stuff for him all weekend, following cooking instructions (and burning a modest number of dinners, which Aberforth really did not want to be reminded of again) and finishing off an essay which his brother had dictated to him. Yes, managing to dictate an essay off the top of his head as eloquent as the one Albus had produced was quite a feat, but that didn't stop the fact that it seriously ate up Aberforth's Saturday afternoon. All the praise in the world couldn't stop Aberforth from going on a murderous rampage if he was asked to do anything ever again once Albus' hand healed.

"Albus! Over here!" a voice called across the quadrangle. Albus looked over to where his best friend, Elphias Doge, was standing and waving. He made a beeline for his friend, with Aberforth trailing behind him.

Sitting on a bench next to where Elphias was drawing attention to himself rather embarrassingly was a small, dark-haired girl poring over an obscene amount of maths homework. She was muttering absent-mindedly to herself as she worked through a particularly difficult problem, her tiny cramped handwriting scrawling across the page at an alarming rate. When Albus said hello, she merely grunted in acknowledgement. Most people would have been put off by this uncouth greeting, but Albus was nonplussed. No-one bothered Amelia when she was doing her homework. Not unless they wanted their arm to be violently ripped off.

Aberforth, glad to have offloaded his injured brother onto some other unsuspecting sods, he quickly said goodbye and buggered off to find his own friends.

"What in the name of all things wrapped in plaster have you done to your arm?" Elphias exclaimed, gesturing to Albus' broken right hand, which had now been encased in a more permanent cast.

"Oh, I had a bit of an incident on Friday afternoon. Fractured, yes. It will be in a cast for six whole weeks, I'm afraid."

Amelia looked up sharply at Albus. "So how are you going to take notes in Mr Kentwood's class? You know what happens if you don't write stuff down with him. You won't have any material to go off. You'll _fail_." And, on that note, she went back to her maths.

From the look on Elphias' face, it was apparent he too feared for Albus' academic health.

"… Leading to a drive towards equality under the law, which of course all comes back to The Rights of Man."

Mr Kentwood paused, ever so briefly, so his students could finish scribbling down what he had just said. He was only thirty minutes into the lesson, but his students had already written down two pages of notes. That is, all of them except Albus Dumbledore, who was sitting in the front row with a tape recorder in front of him and a rather pleased look on his face. The rest of the class had spent quite a lot of time glaring at him and his way of getting around back-breaking (well, hand-breaking) note-taking. Even Amelia was feeling bitter about his ingenious loophole.

"You think you're pretty clever eh, don't you?" a voice hissed over Albus' shoulder as Mr Kentwood continued on with his historical monologue.

"Excuse me?" Albus replied.

"Using that tape recorder. Like those students who claim they've got some illness or something to get extra time in exams. I bet your hand isn't even broken. I wouldn't put it past you. You're top of the friggin' year and you still need special treatment." The girl who had been hissing all this in Albus' ear then threw a pen lid at the back of his head.

"EVANS!" Kentwood barked. "You throw anything else in this class and I will personally ensure you get thrown out the window and into oblivion. No-one will miss you."

Evans scowled. Amelia smirked. Kentwood told the two girls to stop making faces and pay attention for a change. Albus kept a straight face, as he had been doing throughout the entire altercation. Really, the least Evans could have done would be to devise a _convincing_ case.

Albus had spent the rest of the day recording teachers, taking photos of blackboard diagrams with his camera and, when forced, writing very badly with his left hand. Elphias had marvelled at his friend's ingenuity, and offered to carry Albus' things home for him (an offer that greatly pleased Aberforth, who was glad to be free from being his brother's personal lackey, if only for a short period of time).

"I can't believe Ms Buxton let you take on extra subjects," Elphias groaned as they walked back to Albus' house. "Only you could pull that off, Albus. Only you."

Indeed, Albus' persuasive exploits had become widely known to his peers. Prior to the Buxton Experience had been the Harrison Altercation, in which he had managed to reason his way out of the wrath of a very vicious English teacher who hadn't taken too kindly to having her spelling corrected, and the Charles and Conrad Caper (Elphias had made up grandiose names for all of Albus' adventures and misadventures, and they had somewhat stuck), when two bullies a year Albus' senior had been argued into submission and had since been seen being _nice_ to incredibly short Year Sevens. Only Albus could have pulled it off, and he had pulled it off well.

"Yes well, it wasn't that hard. With enough reason and evidence…"

"… Even the most biased can be led to the truth," Elphias concluded proudly. Albus had spouted these words before and they had struck a chord with his friend, yet for some reason they had never been acted upon yet. There were various reasons for this, but Albus didn't like the idea of putting down the intelligence of his best friend. It simply wasn't nice.

The conversation slowly degraded into empty chatter about homework, parents and amusing facts about earwigs as the two boys approached Albus' street.

"Oi! Ginger! Nice tie!" Albus turned around to see Gellert hanging upside-down from a nearby tree and grinning. Albus straightened his school tie and approached the tree.

"Oh hello Gellert. This is my friend Elphias. Elphias, this is Gellert."

Elphias waved. Gellert ignored him.

"So Al, how about you leave Spotty here and we go throw rocks at some goats. Why are there goats in your garden, anyway? Fuck, don't tell me you milk them. I'd have to throw some acorns at you if you ever tried to get me to drink goat milk. I don't swing that way."

"Thank you for your offer," Albus replied, "But Elphias and I have some things to do. Maybe another time."

"Whatever." Gellert disappeared back into the tree.

Albus grabbed Elphias gently by the arm, whose face had turned bright red, and lead him across the road. Being one of those people with profuse acne which could withstand a nuclear blast, let alone a feeble parade of dermatological products, Elphias hadn't taken very kindly to being called Spotty. In fact, he loathed it with a passion.

In fact, that simple duosyllabic nickname had garnered Gellert an instant loathing.

Once their homework had been completed, Elphias had left to go home, leaving Albus and Aberforth to arrange dinner. Their mother or Ariana had not returned home since leaving for the hospital, Ariana for her treatment was surely continuing, and their mother who had to go to Dublin on important work business. She was a high-profile environmental lawyer whose job took her all across Great Britain and the rest of Europe which, despite bringing in significant income, certainly left her two sons with a certain… well, let's just say maturity, when it came to fending for themselves.

A maturity which certainly wasn't being exhibited at that present moment.

"I don't care. I'm sick of cooking. It sucks. I'm having cornflakes for dinner!" Aberforth shouted across the kitchen, clutching a box of cereal.

"You _can't_ have cornflakes for dinner," his brother replied firmly. "There's nowhere near enough nutrition. Now could you please peel the potatoes like I asked?"

"I HATE peeling potatoes! Peel them yourself! I'm having cornflakes!"

"I would peel them if I could. But as you have surely figured out, _my hand is broken_ and hence I can't, so I need your help."

"NO."

"_Aberforth_…"

"Don't 'Aberforth' me, Albus. You're not Mum. You can't tell me what to do. I'm not a child."

There was a pause.

"And DON'T tell me that I _am_ a child, and that you actually can tell me what to do 'cause you're in charge when mum's not home. You know what I mean!"

"I wasn't going to."

"You were thinking it!"

"Jesus H Christ, will you two shut the fuck up?" Albus and Aberforth looked confusedly at Gellert, who had just strolled into their house on his own accord without any warning.

"Who the hell are you?" Aberforth said, somewhat startled by their gatecrasher.

"I'm Gellert Grindelwald," Gellert replied, extending his hand and flashing a very agreeable smile. He got no response.

_S__o _this _is the son of a bitch who broke Albus' wrist? What an asshole_, Aberforth thought._ Who does he think he is, swanning into our house unannounced?_ Without another word, he took his box of cornflakes upstairs to his room, refusing to even look at anyone else in the room.

"What a seedy little goatfucker," Gellert said loudly, the second Aberforth was almost out of earshot. "I've been waiting all afternoon for your pox-ridden little friend to fuck off, and now I find out you're related to a complete douchecock. You could do so much better, Al."

Albus didn't know what to say.

Gellert, on the other hand, seemed to have his mind made up about everything, and lay on the couch and turned on the TV.

"Ooh, nice couch. Bit small, but very comfortable," he called to Albus, who was still standing slightly confused in the kitchen. "I'm hungry. Are you going to peel those potatoes or not?"

It was quite obvious that Gellert wasn't going anywhere for quite a while. With a sigh, Albus made some toast.

* * *

These chapters are getting slowly longer and longer. Soon they may even be an acceptable length 8D

Anyway, this'll be continued soon. I'd continue it now, but I'm lazy. Woo!

Reviews and stuff would be nice. They leave a charmingly warm and fuzzy feeling.

- Lacrima


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hi, me again. I kinda wanted to get this done like almost a week ago, but life got in the way. My exams start in a week and I had a bunch of essays to write (most of which are still untouched, erk), so I had to put this off for a bit. Also, my partner-in-crime Legs and I have started a new fic together, **Heads and Tails**, which is definitely worth a look if you're a fan of _Merlin_. [/shameless self-promotion]

And thanks to all you dudes and chicks (mostly chicks, I'm guessing) who've reviewed and favourited and alerted and whatnot. I'd mention you all, but I'd much rather spend my time posting this up. Thanks guys, keep 'em coming; they make my day, really.

Anyway, here's the long-awaited (hopefully) chapter four, which picks up pretty much right where chapter three ended. Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter 4_

"have I ever mentioned just how shitty reception here is?"

"Yes."

"Well I'm going to mention it again. Your reception is shitty… except for the local station which is the biggest load of puerile shite I've ever had the misfortune to skim past quickly."

The sad thing is, this wasn't even the second time Gellert and Albus had had this conversation. Despite how little effort Albus put into maybe considering turfing Gellert off his couch, the not-so-evident subtle signals of an overstayed welcome were dutifully ignored. The pair had been sitting in the living room, Albus in the armchair and Gellert stretched luxuriously across the couch, for a little over two hours, watching bad American sitcoms and occasionally banging the television when the fuzziness got too bad. It is only when an external force is present that one realises just what their conditions are like, and Albus was made all too clear just how bad the reception actually was. He really needed to climb up on the roof and fiddle with the antenna a bit, to see if it would help.

But not now. Right now he had bigger fish to deal with. Gellert-shaped fish.

"You know what else I find terribly upsetting?" Gellert said, his eyes not leaving to screen.

"That American sitcoms are entirely unstimulating, and that it would probably be more productive to stare at the ceiling all afternoon?" Albus offered.

"No, that your brother is nowhere near as ginger as you."

This comment took Albus by surprise. Yes, he had red hair, but it was more auburn than full-on orange. And it was true that Aberforth's hair was a lot more on the brown side, but seeing as the obscenely blonde Gellert hadn't even looked at Aberforth, this comment was entirely unanticipated.

"True. But what's that got to do with anything?" Albus replied.

"It's a shame, really. Gingers are fun. Also, I'll never wonder about his pubes."

Albus choked on the tea he was drinking.

"Excuse me?"

"Not all gingers have ginger pubes. Which is why it's so interesting to check as many as possible and keep a nice tally."

Albus couldn't tell if he was repulsed or fascinated. Most probably a bit of both.

"So have you been keeping a list? Maybe plot a graph of your findings?" Albus said, a cheeky smile spreading across his face. Gellert sat up, grinning at him.

"You cheeky fucker. I am not as supremely dorky as you are, and so the thought has never crossed my mind. But if you want me to try and recall as many as possible, you're welcome to graph it."

He started counting silently on his fingers, and the higher his count got, the more Albus' eyes widened.

"Surely not."

"Surely not what?"

"Surely you have not seen, um… that many…"

Gellert cocked an eyebrow.

"You'll never know, will you?"

"I probably won't."

"And you just stuttered. You don't stutter."

"No, I don't. Well done. You're quite observant, aren't you?"

"It's a gift."

The truth was, all this talk of sexual regions and the examination of thus regions was making Albus a bit flustered, as most unexperienced people tend to get when they realise they're talking to someone who's plundered more panties than a horde of marauding pirates.

Unless Gellert was lying.

Which he might have been.

But probably wasn't.

Albus didn't know.

He didn't like not knowing things. But really, this conversation really needed to cease before Gellert got even cruder and Albus embarrass himself.

A soft vibration on the table alerted Albus to the fact that he had received a text message. He picked up his phone and checked it.

_is he gone yet?_

It was from Aberforth. Strange, as he was still upstairs. Albus sent a reply.

_Did that really require a text? I'm just downstairs._

_he isnt is he? get rid of him_

_No._

_screw you then_

At that moment, the soft thud of music from upstairs rapidly rose to an intruding pounding.

"Aww, sounds like ickle Aberfoo is trying to cover up his porn," gellert said loudly, putting on a patronising baby voice. It took a while for Albus to realise he was talking about his brother. "Well I don't want to sit around in a house knowing that a kid is right above me, jacking off to pictures of farm animals getting sodomised. Later Al. You make good toast."

Before Albus could even respond, Gellert was out the front door. _He moves like a cat_, Albus thought. _Comes out of nowhere and disappears just like that, and always with that Cheshire Cat grin_.

Gellert was officially the Cheshire Cat, there was no denying it. But who did that make Albus? Hopefully not Alice. He hated being led around like a confused little child, not understanding what was going on in the madcap world.

If there was one thing Albus liked, it was to be in control. Which it was somewhat disconcerting when Gellert challenged it.

WWW

Albus knocked on his brother's door, but there was no answer. Seeing as the music pumping from his bedroom was almost deafening, it was more likely that Aberforth just couldn't hear him, and so he opened the door.

"ABERFORTH?" Albus shouted, but it was only when he prodded him in the back of the head was a response achieved.

"Yeah?" Aberforth replied, turning his music down drastically.

"I thought you might like to know that Gellert just left."

"Thank Christ for that." The younger of the two grabbed a now-empty bowl from next to the computer and headed downstairs. Albus followed.

"I don't see why you dislike him so much," Albus said, trying his best to pull of polite curiosity. In all honesty, Aberforth's reaction to Gellert surprised him. He may be quite boisterous and attention demanding, but he could definitely be charming and interesting when he tried. "He's quite lovely, really."

Aberforth turned around and looked his brother straight in the eye. "He's… he's… he's a dick. There's no other way to put it. I've never met a more attention-seeking little prick in my life. Quite honestly, being in the same room as him makes me want to punch him in the face, that's how fucking irritating he is."

"Language, Aberforth."

"Leave me alone."

"No."

Albus wanted to sigh. In all truthfulness, he thought Gellert was an attention-seeking prick as well. But he was _interesting_. Ever since the Dumbledore family had moved to Godric's Hollow six years ago following his mother's bitter divorce, he had found the small town both charming and unchallenging. Everyone was nice and friendly, once the Newcomer vibe had dissipated, but there was that ever-present air of small-town simplicity.

Gellert wasn't like that. Gellert was new.

Gellert was a challenge.

Albus liked challenges.

"So you're going to let that jerk just swan in and out of the house uninvited, eat our food and take over furniture?"

"Aberforth, he's my friend."

"You have a pretty bad choice in friends, then."

He went back upstairs. Albus didn't bother following him. Instead, he sat back down in the living room, this time residing on his favourite position on the couch, and turned the television back on. He wasn't in the mood for conflict. Ice-cream, maybe, but not conflict.

He got up to get some ice-cream.

"You never told me there was ice-cream. I wouldn't have left if there was ice-cream."

Albus was so shocked to hear Gellert's voice right over his shoulder that he fell off the couch.

"Obviously you didn't leave!" Albus exclaimed, attempting to remove globules of ice-cream off his shirt. The bowl's contents had managed to upend themselves all over his clothing, a fact that did not help the situation at all.

Gellert's wide grin had failed to leave his face. In fact, watching Albus' incident seemed to make him smile wider.

"I _did _leave, thank you very much, but then I stepped on some animal shit in the back yard," he gestured to where a pair of boots lay in the corner on a sheet of newspaper, "and I came back in here to order you to clean them, and heard you and Aberdude arguing about me and I didn't really want to get involved so here I am. And I want some ice-cream." He looked expectantly at him, waiting for ice-cream to be fetched. Obviously, while borderline breaking and entering was entirely acceptable, denying a guest chocolate ice-cream was some sort of heinous faux-pas.

Not wanting to upset his guest, Albus got up and doled out two more bowls of ice-cream, the first being irreparably impaired. He looked down sadly at his shirt. Chocolate ice-cream was impossible to get out.

As if he was reading his thoughts, Gellert called "You know, I know a good way to get chocolate out of clothes and shit" from the living room.

Which is how Albus found himself standing shirtless and shivering in the laundry.

"Are you sure this will work?" Albus asked as Gellert filled a bucket containing the chocolate-coated shirt with water and a bizarre selection of household substances. "I'm sure you are well experienced in the matter, but I don't see how mayonnaise will remove stains."

"The mayonnaise itself will not achieve absolute cleanliness…" Gellert replied expertly, "But in conjunction with cornflour…" which he proceeded to add "and orange juice…" which too was added to the mix "You will find will combine to produce a cleansing force so powerful that you will shit your trousers in awe. And, fortunately, you will then have a foolproof method of cleaning the aforementioned shit-filled trousers."

Albus had no response. How the hell was one supposed to respond to that? How was one supposed to respond to _most_ of Gellert's anecdotes and monologues? They all seemed to defy even the most eloquent logic.

"I see."

Good enough.

"Now," Gellert said, still using his highly authorative-sounding voice, "as much as I like seeing skinny white boys standing around shirtless, you look like you're about to freeze to death, and then you'll be of no use to anybody. Go put some clothes on."

Like Albus was going to ignore such a request. It was really bloody cold, especially in the laundry. He thanked the blonde and, about time too, politely asked him to leave. It was almost midnight for Christ's sake!

"Oh fine. As funny as it would be, I don't really want your dipshit brother to bust a testicle over me never leaving. But tell me where your hose is. My boots are disgusting and it's all your fault."

"In the front garden. Don't worry, the goats stay out back, so your journey should be nice and faeces-free."

"Marvellous."

Albus waited until he heard the front gate clang, ensuring that Gellert was well and truly gone, before rushing upstairs and grabbing a clean shirt. He was _freezing_.

* * *

This time, he actually has left, I promise. This has to be the first chapter that's finished properly, which is good 'cuz I'm really not used to writing in chapter form, hence why the past chapters have been a bit abrupt. So yeah, keep faith in this, and it'll probably pay off.

Oh, and I in no way encourage washing clothes in mayo, orange juice and cornflour, as I'm pretty sure that'd just fuck your shirt up even more.

Also, it is physically impossible to have a story containing redheads without mentioning pubes. Just sayin'.

- Lacrima


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Ohai thur. My exams have finished (and so has year 11, how spooky is that?), so I'm back with another instalment of RWAB!

* * *

_**Chapter 5**_

It was lunchtime and Albus, Elphias and Amelia were sitting in their usual corner of the quadrangle doing what most people do at lunchtime: eat lunch. But, unlike most people, Amelia and Albus had their noses pressed to their biology textbooks, writing as furiously as they could muster, which was not very for Albus who was very awkwardly writing with his left hand. He _knew_ he should have tried to learn to be ambidextrous when he was five. Both of them had been doing homework in all their breaks, a fact which Elphias found minorly perplexing.

"It's not like you guys to not do your homework in time for class," he observed.

Amelia replied with a borderline-savage grunt. The first time Elphias had made his ever so clever observation, she had snapped that she had been busy, and had barely said anything since. Albus had used the same vague excuse, not entirely sure why he hadn't yet mentioned his blossoming friendship with Gellert to his best friends.

_Because then they would have to meet, and Gellert would insult Elphias again and maybe say something inappropriate to Amelia and then there would be a lot of bother, huffiness and clawed-out eyeballs,_ Albus had reasoned to himself.

"You must have been doing something terribly involving," Elphias continued, politely ignoring the fact that he was being politely ignored. "Albus, you must have been washing clothes like crazy; I've never seen a cleaner shirt before in my life. It looks newer than new."

Albus was indeed wearing the same shirt that Gellert had expertly cleaned the night before. Compared to the rest of his 'clean' shirts, they all looked positively revolting. He'd have to wash absolutely everything tonight to get it to the same calibre of cleanliness.

"Er yes," he replied, not looking up from his textbook. "I was introduced to a new way of cleaning things."

"It must be magical. Oh my!" All of a sudden, Elphias' eyes went wide and he started bouncing up and down with excitement, as he usually did when he thought of a supposedly brilliant idea. "I just had a brilliant idea! You know what you should do? You should _sell this cleaning stuff!_ You could make a million! You could be on all those daytime panel shows! You could shake the Prime Minister's hand!"

"Except," Amelia said, looking up from her book, "that Albus hasn't actually said what this _magical product_ is, and it probably already is a product that someone has sold, hence how he got it."

Elphias' face fell. He hadn't thought of that.

"Unless he's been rummaging through his kitchen cupboards and mixing together a load of random stuff together which miraculously cleans things."

Albus repressed a smile.

"Oh yes," he said airily, "It is a little known fact that mayonnaise, cornflour and orange juice will remove even the most stubborn chocolate stains."

Elphias and Amelia laughed. Really, Albus was the master of deadpan wit.

Even when he was telling the truth, apparently.

"So how long until that cast comes off?" Elphias said, changing the subject.

"Six weeks," Albus replied, returning to his homework. It was due in… ten minutes, and he still had seven questions to do.

"Oh, such a shame. Are you going to finish that sandwich?" he pointed to Albus' uneaten second cheese and avocado. After an absent-minded wave of his hand which Elphias took to be a yes, and he snaffled it with glee.

WWW

"Gellert! Gellert?... GELLERT?" Bathilda Bagshot put down her wooden spoon with a huff and trudged upstairs to more effectively shout at her great nephew.

"GELLERT!" she shouted from just outside his bedroom door, wincing as Gellert's pathetic excuse for 'music' screamed its way through the closed door. He'd never hear her above that and so, ignoring all advice ever given to her by anyone with a teenage male living with them, she opened the door without permission.

The room was empty.

"Gellert?" she called curiously, turning off the dreadful music and having a closer look around the room, peeking under bedcovers, in cupboards and behind the door. He definitely wasn't there. _Not again_, she thought. This was the third time in forty-eight hours that he'd waltzed off without even leaving a note, let alone talking to her. Gellert really was a walking, talking exasperation generator.

She left his bedroom and closed the door, pausing briefly to examine a deep scratch in the door's woody length which certainly hadn't been there the day before.

"You wanted me?"

Bathilda was so startled by the sudden voice behind her that she half-jumped, bashing her knee against the door. "Gellert! Argh! Ow, _stop_ _doing that!_"

He merely grinned his Cheshire grin. If Bathilda didn't know any better, she'd think he was enjoying her pain.

She didn't want to think that maybe he was.

"Gellert. Please stop sneaking up behind me and scaring me half to death. It's both frustrating and _painful_." She winced again.

"Okay, next time I'll be sure to scare you all the way to death."

Bathilda frowned. That was not the answer she wanted. If only she hadn't left her wooden spoon in the kitchen; if there was one thing Gellert needed it was a good hitting with a kitchen implement.

"I'd rather not be scared at all, if you wouldn't mind."  
"So what did you want me for, exactly?"

"Oh, yes, I'm making a carrot and almond cake and I'm all out of butter. Could you please go up the street and get me some?"

"Can't. Busy." Gellert prodded his great aunt aside and walked into his bedroom.

"Please!" she shouted before the door could be slammed in her face. "Otherwise there will be no cake!"

But it was obvious that the likes of Gellert Grindelwald were not concerned with cake.

She would have to up the ante. In a major way.

Scraping the last of the chocolate ice-cream from the container, Bathilda felt a little bit like a lot of a pig. She had polished off the equivalent of two bowls of the stuff in one sitting – well, standing – and was hoping that it was worth it.

Bracing herself for an imminent startling, she dropped the empty container in the bin.

"There's no more chocolate ice-cream?" she heard Gellert cry in an almost pained voice over her shoulder, who had appeared almost out of thin air.

Surely there was a circle of hell reserved for great aunts who exploited their nephews' intense fondness for ice-cream, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"I'm sorry, there was barely any left," she fibbed, "be a dear and pop up the street for some more, will you?"

She had barely finished her sentence and Gellert was already lacing his boots. She handed him a ten pound note from her wallet. "Also, get some butter. And some ham."

He shot her a salute and walked out the door.

WWW

Albus browsed the shelves of McKinley's general store, shopping basket awkwardly wedged in the crook of his right elbow. He'd accidentally left the shopping list at home, and there was definitely something he was forgetting. And as not much is worse than the feeling that one has definitely forgotten something frightfully important, so it was stressing Albus out quite a lot.

"I've got milk and bread…" he muttered to himself, "we've got plenty of beans… Aberforth's gone off peanut butter so I don't need to get any more of that… Cheese? No, there's plenty of cheese."

"Sounds like a monumental dilemma you've gotten there," a voice said casually from about three feet to the left. Albus turned to see Gellert standing beside him holding two tubs of chocolate ice-cream.

"Oh hello, Gellert. It's been a whole…" he glanced at his watch, "seventeen hours since you last made an appearance. I was starting to get worried."

"Y'know, you have to be the most polite little naughty bastard I've ever met."

"I do try."

"I know. Now you're forgetting something, are you? You should make a shopping list."

"I left it at home."

"Well that's stupid. I once knew a guy who forgot his shopping list so many times he got it tattooed on his arm."

"You _cannot_ be serious."

"True story. Every time he bought something he got it crossed off, and every time he needed something else he'd get it tattooed on the end. Covered his whole arm. I swear to god."

"Surely going to a tattoo parlour every time he needed some more milk would be terribly inconvenient."

"Nah, his brother ran a tattoo place out of their back shed, so it wasn't a problem."

"I see."

"Yeah, he's in jail now for burning down a church. Fun guy."

"Sounds it."

There was a quite likely chance Gellert was making all this up. But really, even if he was spinning this off the top of his head as he went along, it made a damn good story.

"Anyway, nice seeing you again," Albus said warmly after an awkward silence, "But I must be off. Dinner doesn't cook itself. And thank you for cleaning my shirt yesterday."

"No problemo."

It was only when halfway through paying for his items that Albus realised that a tub of chocolate ice-cream had ended up in his groceries. Well, that explained where Gellert's other tub had mysteriously vanished to.

Oh well, there was no such thing as too much chocolate ice-cream.

WWW

"Aberforth! I'm home!" Albus called as he opened the front door.

"I'm feeding the goats!" his brother called from presumably outside, and Albus went to put the groceries away. A short time later, Aberforth came back inside, gingerly removing his revolting gumboots.

"I have a suspicious feeling I forgot to get something important, so I got ice-cream instead," Albus said as Aberforth poured himself a glass of freshly-purchased milk.

"No such thing as too much chocolate ice-cream. So what's for dinner?"

"I haven't decided yet, but I was thinking pasta."

"Sounds good."

"Did anyone call while I was out?"

"Oh yeah, mum rang. She's coming back in ten days, which is the same day Ariana's coming home. And Dad called, wondering if we wanted to visit him next school holidays. Also, Bathilda's bringing 'round a cake later. Reckons we need someone to feed us good proper desserts while Mum's gone."

"Excellent, I'll think about it, and what kind of cake?"

"Didn't ask."

"Oh well, we'll find out soon enough."

Right on cue, the doorbell rang and Aberforth went to open it. It was Bathilda, and she had cake. Carrot and almond cake.

Bathilda's carrot and almond cakes were, for want of a better word, _badass_.

The three sat down in the lounge and Albus served up slices of cake. Bathilda refused, saying she wasn't hungry. Aberforth was understandably indignant, insisting that no-one in their right mind would refuse such amazing cake, especially if they made it themselves, and eventually persuaded her to have a small slice.

"So have you boys met my great nephew yet? He's over from Germany and staying with me for a while. About your age too, Albus."

"Oh yes, I've met him. He's quite charming," he replied.

"So's the Devil."

Aberforth grinned into his cake. Albus ignored him.

"So if he's my age, what about school? Is he not going to be here long enough to be temporarily enrolled in the local school?"

"Well, that's a bit of a… have you boys had dinner yet? It doesn't look like it. And here I am giving you cake. What a terrible neighbour I am. Would you like to come 'round to mine? I made a big pot of leek and ham soup."

Albus was eager to go, despite Bathilda's quick subject-change. But Aberforth got in first, saying that their own dinner was already underway and it would be terribly inconvenient and they both had lots of homework anyway so maybe they'd take her up on her offer some other time but thanks anyway for the cake.

Obviously his dislike for Gellert was too strong to resist someone else cooking and washing up for them, Albus mused. He thanked Bathilda anyway, and she left, consicuously leaving the cake behind for the two boys.

"So I was thinking…" the younger said in a totally inconspicuous manner, "Maybe we forget the pasta and have cake for dinner."

"So I was thinking… not a chance. You had cornflakes last night, so this time you're going to have dinner for dinner."

It wasn't until the onions had been chopped that Albus remembered what he'd forgotten to buy earlier.

Pasta sauce.

* * *

So I've noticed that, while this is genre'd as romance/angst, neither has come into it yet. Should I leave it as it is and wait for later chapters to kick in, or change it and see what happens later on to see if it's still worthy of its anticipated categorisation?

You know the drill. Read, review and do something else starting with R. Rhododendron, maybe.

See you next time,

- Lacrima


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Sorry I took so long to post this chapter… I have no excuse, really. Just haven't been in the writing mood lately, and in my defence I have had a LOT of maths homework to do, which tends to kill my writing buzz. Gosh, year twelve.

Anyway, I have made up for the lack of updates by providing you tasty people with a chapter in which _something actually happens!_ I have no idea why it's taken so much effort to get to this point, but now it's here everyhitng should get a lot more interesting.

Now, on with it!

* * *

_**Chapter 6**_

Albus sat pleasantly in the waiting room of the doctor's surgery, idly flipping through a celebrity magazine without taking in any of it at all. If waiting patiently was an Olympic sport, Albus would definitely be a gold medallist. Doctor Friday was currently examining his new X-rays, and said that it would not take too long. Unfortunately, Friday's interpretation of 'not too long' was completely different to most people's timescale, and so he had been waiting mildly for the better part of an hour and a half. And it didn't help that before and during the X-ray process Albus had had to spend a grand total of three hours waiting. But he hadn't found it too difficult, really.

Aberforth, on the other hand, was on the verge of kicking down Doctor Friday's door and garrotting him with his own tie. The only reason he was even there was because once his brother had been taken care of the surgery would close and Doctor Friday's younger son and Aberforth's friend Charlie would be let off his job as the secretary. There was also the fact that Albus had asked him to come, but that was being forcibly ignored. He had distanced himself from his older brother in their mother and sister's absence, finding Albus' quiet authority frustrating and unhelpful. Ariana's lengthy hospital visits and their mother's travelling for work usually either brought the two boys closer together or further apart, depending on Aberforth's mood. Sometimes both at once. Albus usually bore his moodiness with good grace, accepting and understanding that a cumulation of absent parents, a very ill sister and the usual teenage turmoil was the main problem. Sometimes this made things worse, but as a general rule of thumb that how things were and that's how they'd stay.

Nevertheless, Aberforth was seriously fucking bored.

Doctor Friday re-emerged from his office and beckoned for Albus to join him. Albus put down the mostly-ignored magazine he had been 'reading' and followed him. Glad that his brother was no longer there to chastise him for distracting Charlie from his job (he wasn't doing much anyway, in Aberforth's opinion), he crept across the room to the reception desk and proceeded to do just that.

"Your hand is healing up quite nicely, I must say," Doctor Friday told Albus in an approving manner. "Good to see you've stoped putting unnecessary stress on it." Albus smiled sheepishly. "You may be able to take the cast off earlier than I initially predicted. Keep taking good care of it and come see me in a couple of weeks, unless there are any complications such as swelling and whatnot, then you are to come to me immediately. No more dilly-dallying around like last time, you hear?"

Despite the chastising, Doctor Friday's tone was still light and friendly in gentle disapproval.

"I'll make sure of it," Albus said, standing up.

"You're a good lad. Now if you could just stop by Charlie on your way out and make your next appointment, that would be lovely. Good day now!"

"Goodbye, Doctor Friday."

WWW

Aberforth and Charlie walked down the footpath, laughing and talking loudly about not much in the way that teenagers do so well. Albus walked several paces behind them, not wanting to interrupt the conversation which he had no hope of following properly. He liked seeing Aberforth in a good mood, especially in their little sister's absence which often cast a downer on the teenager.

Suddenly, there was a rustling sound and a young man jumped out of a nearby hedgerow, shouting and screaming wildly. It was Gellert.

"HOLY SHIT LOOK AT THOSE FUCKING EARS! JEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESUSSSS!" he hollered, pointing at Charlie and recoiling in mock horror. At least, Albus assumed it was mock horror.

Charlie blushed furiously, hands immediately flying to his fairly protuberant ears which were a permanent source of mild to moderate insecurity for the boy.

"In all seriousness, though," Gellert continued, seeming to calm down slightly "those are the most fucking awful ears I have ever seen. It's like you have two satellite dishes glued roughly to the side of your head, that slid down a bit while the glue was still drying and so are all lopsided and wonky and shit. Your gene pool must be rubbish. Please never reproduce."

The Dumbledore boys gaped, Albus in shock and Aberforth in outrage. A stunned silence hung over the group of teenagers.

"You little shit-face…" Aberforth growled, breaking the tension and lunging at Gellert. Gellert darted out of the way, making Aberforth stumble, and went sprinting off in the opposite direction and out of sight, cackling madly.

"Who was that?" Charlie said, his face still an unfashionable shade of pink. "Didn't anyone ever teach him the concept of being a reasonable human being?"

Aberforth shook his head and laughed bitterly. "He's old Bathilda's nephew or something; he's staying with her for a bit. Dunno why, though. And I don't think I've ever seen him do something that remotely resembles reasonable human being-ness."

Albus' ears went pink as he pretended to ignore the pointed look his younger brother was shooting him. He saw that Charlie was gearing up to one of his Loud Rants that he was so inclined to do, and slowly sidled off to walk home on his own.

WWW

Tchaikovsky piped softly from the CD player's speakers as Albus hunched over his desk, reading the physics textbook he had procured and making notes. Or at least, he was trying to. He'd been reading the same paragraph over and over again for god knows how long without taking any of it in.

'_Farther away from earth we need to consider E__p__ differently. In particular we need to consider a real position of zero E__p__ rather than an arbitrary one. From Newton's gravitational equation we know that the force of gravity decreases with increasing distance from the earth…'_

What he was reading should have been interesting. Hell, it _was_ interesting. Albus just had other things on his mind.

Gellert-shaped things.

While he knew perfectly well that Gellert had a somewhat dark sense of humour sometimes, in Albus' experience it had always been delivered relatively good-naturedly. But what Albus had witnessed that afternoon had been more akin to outright and unprovoked bullying than a casual jest. Surely it wasn't like him to be so spontaneously horrible.

Albus cast his mind back across the week and a half since Gellert had made his spectacular appearance. With dismay, he could count at least ten separate occasions of Gellert-induced cruelty. He had called Elphias 'Spotty', accused Bathilda of being an old bitch, thrown her handbag out of a second-storey window, shouted at small children, thrown rocks at cars whilst hurling obscenities, punched Aberforth at least twice, called him countless horrible names (which mostly involved lewd activities and goats), laughed after learning their neighbour Elizabeth's favourite uncle had died, and now the thing with Charlie. All of these things had seemed trivial and virtually harmless to Albus at the time, but now he was having doubts.

It was in Albus' nature to always see the best of people, but the more he thought about Gellert and his actions the less he had to back his 'Gellert is a decent person' argument. Maybe Aberforth was right, maybe he was very thoroughly casting a blind eye towards his new friend, who was much less than amicable.

But why? Albus had no idea. Usually the idea of mindless brutality repulsed him. Usually, people like Gellert would have been swiftly rebuffed and lectured. So what was the problem this time?

It bothered Albus that he had so easily overlooked Gellert's blindingly obvious faults. He had been easily charmed and swindled by the blonde, whilst everyone else saw him for what he was. Even Aberforth had out-observed and out-witted him, which was rather embarrassing (despite how much Albus told himself that he shouldn't think of himself intellectually superior to his younger brother, sometimes there was no denying the truth and feeling put-out when his expectations were surpassed).

He wondered whether his perplexing friendship with Gellert would have developed had his mother been around. She was rational but strict, banning some of Aberforth's hopeful friends from their house if they showed signs of destructively disruptive behaviour. And Gellert made those boys look like angels in comparison.

_I wish she would come back sooner,_ Albus thought. _She would put all this silliness to rest… and probably slap some manners into Gellert._ He smiled briefly to himself at that mental image. As much as he liked his independence and responsibility, sometimes there was no replacement for a good mother. But he'd have to wait four more days until she and Ariana would return…

Damn it, he really should get back to his physics work. Albus sighed and refocused his eyes on the textbook in front of him.

'_From Newton's gravitational equation we know that the force of gravity decreases with increasing distance from the earth…'_

Albus had made it a paragraph and a half further down the page before his thoughts drifted again. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't hear his bedroom window slide open and someone climb inside.

"Jesus, do you ever stop reading? Why don't you just put your dick in it and be done with it."

Albus spun around, startled, to see Gellert sitting on the edge of his bed.

"How did you get in here?" he asked, slightly spooked.

"How did _you_ get in here?" Gellert replied with a smile. When Albus continued to stare at him as if he had spontaneously combusted, he gave up and gestured to the now-open window. A look of understanding crossed the redhead's face.

"I see. Now, what are you doing here?"

"What, I can't spontaneously visit you at…" he glanced at the clock sititng on the bedside table, "eleven forty-three at night? What is this, Soviet Russia?"

Albus shook his head.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked the blonde, who was now fiddling with a Rubik's Cube that was also sitting on the bedside table.

"If you want."

"Did… why were you so horrible to Charlie this afternoon?"

"Who?"

"The boy Aberforth and I were with this afternoon."

"Oh, Mr Giganto-Ears. Holy shit, he is funny-looking. Seriously, I'm still laughing." And indeed he was; a small chuckle escaped from his lips.

"_Gellert_."

He shrugged. "It was funny."

"No it wasn't."

"Yes it was."

"No it wasn't."

"Yes it was."

Well this was going nowhere. Albus changed track.

"Are you always like that to people?"

"Always like what?"

"Pointing out their flaws. Insulting them. Hurting their feelings."

Another shrug.

Albus sighed and spun his whirly-chair around to go back to his physics work. He had just picked up his pen awkwardly when he felt his chair be swung around again and a pair of lips pressed against his own.

Holy shit.

He could only stare in shock as Gellert broke the kiss and turned back to climb out the bedroom window again.

"Not always," he called over his shoulder before disappearing from sight.

Albus was frozen in his chair, still frozen with disbelief at what had just happened. He stared blankly at his freshly-vacated windowsill, on which his Rubik's Cube now sat. All the coloured stickers on the squares had been peeled off and left on a pile next to it, leaving it as blank as Albus' mind.

* * *

Now, that was worth the wait, don't you think? I like to think so.

The textbook excerpt in this chap was taken directly from a sheet I got in physics, but I'm afraid I have no idea what textbook it was taken from.

Also, in chapter five I said Kendra and Ariana would return in four days, but I managed to completely forget about it until I almost finished this chapter, so I had to do muchos backpedalling and changed their due date. I don't like that they've been gone for so long, but I need stuffs to happen first! So sorry, kiddies, they'll come in more later on.

Either way, I hope you enjoyed it; feel free to leave reviews and feedback and shit if you feel so inclined ^^

- Lacrima


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I think we're a little bit beyond apologies now, aren't we? I know it's obscenely late, you know it's obscenely late, so let's just forget about it and enjoy ourselves, okay?

Please don't leave me ._.

* * *

_Chapter 7_

"Hey Albus, have you seen my left shoe? I coulda sworn I left it in the hallway, but… Albus?"

Aberforth stared at his brother, who was sitting in his chair with the vacant surprised look of someone who had just been slapped in the face and not quite gotten over it.

"Albus? Wha- Alllllbussss?" He prodded him in the temple.

"What? Huh? What?" Albus shook his head like a wet dog and tried to get his bearings.

"That has to be the most ineloquent thing you've ever said," Aberforth said, laughing. "Seriously, what's up with you?"

"Oh, er, I was just… thinking…"

"Whatever. Are you ready to go yet?"

"Go where?"

Aberforth squinted at Albus, and moved so that their faces were inches apart. "Hmmm, your pupils _look_ fine, so you're probably not high or anything… still, what the hell is up with you this morning?"

Albus, not in the mood for any close scrutiny, made a non-committal reply and made to pack his schoolbag. As he jammed in his exercise books, bending the corners significantly, all he could think about was the night before. What the hell was Gellert playing at, kissing him? To say it weirded Albus out would be an understatement; it left him so paralysed in shock he hadn't moved from his chair since eleven thirty-four the previous night.

Mmm, looked like he would be sleeping through English for the first time in… ever.

The two boys arrived at the school gate forty seconds after the bell had rang. While they could still get to class in time without being considered late, they were _never_ this late. Aberforth had had to practically drag a half-asleep and more than just a little distracted Albus out of the door. But now that they were at school, all of Aberforth's obligations went out the window and he ran off before his maths teacher could scold him for being late.

"Albus, you're late," Albus' English teacher, Mrs Entwhistle, said as he walked in the room. It wasn't so much a scolding as a statement of surprise; Albus was _never_ late.

"Sorry…" he replied quietly and made his way to his desk. Before Mrs Entwhistle had even picked up her piece of chalk, Albus' head was on the desk and he was halfway to Dreamyland.

Unfortunately the express train to Dreamyland was hijacked and promptly derailed by a parade of cheeky blonde Oh-My-God-Last-Nights, and Albus found himself thinking way too hard about it again.

Gellert had kissed him. Gellert had _kissed_ him. _Gellert_ had kissed him. Gellert had kissed _him_. No matter where the emphasis was placed, the situation didn't get any less confusing.

There were too many questions and they all wanted to be answered at the same time, despite how much Albus forced them into a theoretically effective queueing system.

Of course, the question that kept elbowing the rest in the ribs to get to the front was _why?_ Did Gellert like him, or was he just messing with him? The latter was just as likely as the former, which made the question nigh unanswerable for the meantime. Back of the queue.

Clinging to the shirt-tails of _Why?_ was _So what did you think of it?_, and this was a goddamn tricky one. Did Albus enjoy it? It certainly wasn't not good, though he was hardly the expert on kissing. He'd only been kissed once before, and he was pretty sure that it didn't count; he was eight and she had chased him halfway across the playground before tackling him to the ground and slobbering on his face. So really, this had been his first proper kiss, and it was certainly alright.

And he was certainly avoiding the question.

Would it have been just as good if it had been someone other than Gellert who had kissed him? Or better? Or horribly worse?

The little niggling feeling at the back of Albus' head that was shouting at him that it had a logical answer to why he was so able to overlook Gellert's faults was swiftly ignored. In the same manner, the _What did you think of it?_ Question had just been pushed to the back of the queue, and the vastly less uncomfortable-self-honesty generating question of _Why?_ found its way back to the front.

Surely if he was joking around he wouldn't have been so… gentle. Knowing Gellert, his approach to messing with him would have been to stick his tongue as far down his throat as possible.

Unless he was trying to double-bluff him by doing his best to convince him it was genuine, and then laughing his head off when Albus believed him.

The more Albus thought about it, the more it looked like Gellert could very well have been playing a prank on him. But why would he jeopardise their friendship _now_? Surely they were actually friends… unless that was part of the elaborate ruse as well.

Of course, all this elaborate plotting could be disproved in the event that Gellert actually found him attractive. But just how likely was that?

"Albus?" Albus was roused from his deep fretting by Mrs Entwhistle, who was looking at him as if she had been trying to get his attention for quite a while.

"I, uh, I think it very well shows the contrast between the… um…"

Obviously this was not the answer.

"Albus, the bell already rang; why are you still here?"

And, lo and behold, there was no-one else in the room.

"Sorry, I was a bit distracted…"

"Is everything okay? Are you having any problems at home or anything?"

"No, not really. Well, nothing major."

"Well, if you are having problems you can always come and see me and we'll try and sort it out, okay?"

"Okay then…"

Mrs Entwhistle shot him an 'I'm showing that I care' smile, which he awkwardly reciprocated before shuffling out of the room and heading off to chemistry.

xxx

The rest of Albus' day continued in a blur of not-paying-attention which refused to go unnoticed by his teachers, friends and fellow students. Nevertheless, they didn't get a coherent explanation as to his behaviour, and Albus continued to fret in peace.

In fact, the first proper shock back to reality came when he came face-to-face with a rather pissed-off Aberforth glaring at him from the front gate. Although it's very difficult to take someone seriously when they're wearing a big floppy hat, gumboots and gloves and being followed by about half a dozen escaped goats trying their best to investigate the bucket of oats that is mysteriously not being fed to them, Albus could tell that something was wrong and it was most probably (directly or indirectly) his fault.

"What's going on?" Albus asked, wanting to get to the root of the problem before he was subjected to a half-unintelligible rant.

Aberforth merely pointed to the roof, where a pair of heavy-looking boots were just visible. Recognition, followed by understanding, washed over Albus, and he went to go find the ladder.

"Hello Gellert. Fancy meeting you here," Albus said genially when he reached the rooftop. Well, as genially as possible after hauling an awkward and heavy ladder against the wall and climbing up to the roof of the two-storey house. It didn't help that Albus was a little bit afraid of heights.

"So what's the deal with the goats, anyway?" Gellert asked, distracted by the marauding brown and grey goats in the garden below as they tried to hijack Aberforth's bucket of oats.

Albus shrugged. "We milk them, as well as keeping them as pets. Sometimes we loan them out to petting zoos and such. Aberforth likes them. Ariana likes them."

"Who's Ariana."

"Our sister."

"Is she hot?"

Albus frowned at him. "She has Fibrodysplasia ossificans progressiva."

The was a pause.

"The fuck is that?"

"It's a rare bone disease which causes damaged fibrous tissue to be turned into bone."

"That sounds like a pretty badass disease."

"if by 'badass' you mean 'very bad', then yes, yes it is. There's no cure."

There was another, more awkward, silence in which Gellert played with his shoelaces and Albus continued to watch the goats.

"Can I ask you a question?" Albus asked after a while. It was time to bite the bullet.

"Go for it."

"Why did you kiss me yesterday?"

Gellert shrugged.

Albus waited for a more elaborate response.

Albus did not get one.

"Well? Were you playing a joke on me, or do you actually, uh…"

Their eyes met, but before Albus could figure out what was going on in the blonde's head, a pair of surprisingly strong arms wrapped themselves around his waist and pulled him close to Gellert.

"Which would you prefer?" he felt Gellert whisper dangerously close to his ear.

Albus couldn't not turn purple. Unable to think of a clever response, he resigned himself to being gently cuddled. It was worryingly nice.

"Can I ask you another question?" Albus asked after sitting in silence for a few minutes.

"Of course youcan," Gellert purred in response.

"How did you even get up here? The ladder was still in the shed."

"It's a secret."

* * *

My chapters are getting shorter and I'm not sure why. Oh well, I should probably let them; that way I don't keep angsting the fuck out about not having enough shit to post.

And Ariana's disease is totally real, if you were wondering, and obscenely rare. Huzzah for Wikipedia-snooping (or rather, getting Legs to do it for me :P).

Tata for now, and I'll try and update again within the next four and a half months. (The key word being "try".)

Feel free to review and shit,

- Lacrima


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Oh look, another one! I'm not a _complete_ write-off yet, am I? And stuff happens in this chapter! Stuff worth pushing it up a rating! (It's not quite worth an M yet, IMO, but it will definitely get there in the next couple chapters, ooh la la~ Also slight genre change as I disagree with my original judgement)

* * *

**_Chapter 8_**

"Okay seriously, what is wrong with you?" Aberforth asked his older brother pointedly, who was staring at his half-eaten fried egg with a distinctly vacant look upon his face. "Yesterday you were a zombie, and today… today you're still a zombie."

"Mmm," Albus half-heartedly replied after a pause.

This was starting to get on Aberforth's nerves. As much as he enjoyed Albus not paying much attention to him and not cracking down on him eating leftover cake for breakfast and belting '80s power ballads at 1 am, it was rather disconcerting having the most responsible person he knew under the age of forty incapable of paying attention to his surroundings for two consecutive days.

What on earth was up with him?

Albus, as to be expected, was completely unaware of his younger sibling's concern. He had his own issues to deal with. His problems from the day before had been dealt with, but had been replaced with very related ones.

Gellert did indeed fancy him (for reasons not yet entirely understood), and after a remarkably affectionate cuddling session on the roof the previous afternoon he could safely assume that he didn't quite mind the idea of it. Albus always prided himself on his open-mindedness, so the whole aspect of Gellert being another male had been accepted rather smoothly – it helped that it actually gave some explanation as to why Albus had never paid much attention to any of the teenage girls he knew, in any romantic sense anyway. But really, in Albus' mind gender was the least of his concerns as to whether attempting to forge a proper relationship with his friend would be wise.

Oh, was he really contemplating that? Even if dating someone who managed to antagonise pretty much everyone he knew wasn't problematic in itself, there was still the issue that Albus had no idea how to go about initiating that sort of thing. Should he straight-out ask Gellert on some sort of date, or wait until Gellert propositioned him? Really, waiting until he was well into his teens to try and engage in this sort of thing put him at a strategic disadvantage. Especially as Albus' strategic disadvantage was that he had no idea how to handle the situation at all.

A firm prod to the head brought him back into the present. "Come on, if we don't go now we'll be late again, and I still have to copy Terry's French homework before first period." Despite the rather obvious suggestion of unethical behaviour, Aberforth still failed to get a rise out of his brother, who merely nodded and abandoned his already neglected breakfast.

xxx

_I really need to stop being so concerned about his wellbeing_, Aberforth thought bitterly as he turned around for the umpteenth time to make sure his off-with-the-pixies older brother was still following him to school. _Well, at least he's carrying his own stuff for a change._ Tired of carrying mountains of textbooks and folders and exercise books that weren't even his, Aberforth had gone digging around the attic to find a bigger bag so Albus could carry his own crap despite his injured hand. But now that he wasn't physically needed to assist him, the only thing keeping the younger Dumbledore from running off and getting to school with plenty of time to do his French homework was his devotion to his brother. And even that was waning. It certainly didn't help that the sky looked like it was threatening to rain, and he didn't have an umbrella.

"Uh, Albus?" Aberforth asked, turning around. He noticed with disgruntlement that Albus was in fact lagging half a block behind, and turned around to walk back towards him. That just made everything a lot easier.

"Albus, I'm going to go ahead, okay? I have stuff to do at school."

"Hmm, what? Yes, yes…" Albus replied, snapping out of deep thought.

Aberforth was sure he hadn't heard him properly, but it still gave him an excuse. Turning on his heel, he walked in the direction of school at a greatly increased pace.

Albus' mind, of course, was still on Gellert. A little part of Albus' brain was aware of just how much it was destroying his ability to pay attention to the surrounding world - something which he usually prided himself on being able to do acutely - which worried that part of his brain quite a lot. But a larger part of his brain was more concerned by the fact that the vast majority of his brain wasn't even dwelling on Gellert-related dilemmas anymore; it was merely _thinking_ about him. Just his gorgeous grey eyes and his golden curls and his Cheshire Cat smile and his firm hands and…

With a substantial thud, Albus landed face-first on the concrete pavement. Finally jolted all the way back to reality, he pushed himself up into a half-sitting position and checked himself for cuts and grazes. Fortunately, his broken arm had been cushioned by his swinging schoolbag and the rest of him was fine. _I must have tripped on the curb_, he thought to himself, glancing behind and noticing the offending curb in a prime location to be the most likely cause of the accident.

Suddenly a pair of firm hands grasped Albus and pulled him to his feet.

"Fuck, do you always fall over? I thought you were smarter than that. You know, next time I'm not going to pick you up and you can just lie there with more broken bones and get eaten by a stray goat or some shit."

"Hello, Gellert," Albus said, not being able to resist a smile when brought face-to-face with him. "How are you this morning?"

"Morning? Fuck, I haven't even gone to bed yet. You like wearing that ugly tie, don't you?"

Albus glanced down at the offending tie. "I wear it more out of necessity than fondness; it's part of the school uniform. I'm on my way to school."

"Eugh, you poor fucker. Come home with me instead."

Albus stared at him blankly. "I can't; I have to go to school."

Gellert smiled with mock (mock?) pity. "Oh Al, you're such a pussy. You don't even need to go to school. I know you're teaching yourself at night, and are doing a much faster and more thorough job than any of your useless teachers. And if you come over…" he leant in close to Albus' ear, "I will definitely make it worth your while."

Before Albus knew what was going on, he and Gellert were two houses away from Bathilda's and, more importantly, Gellert was holding his hand. (There was a significant chance that it was the hand-holding that had prevented Albus from protesting, but Albus refused to admit that the blonde was capable of reducing him to the consistency of pre-teen girl.)

A thought occurred to Albus. "But won—"

"She's gone to the next village to do some shopping," Gellert replied, smiling. "Don't you worry, it'll be just you and me."

Before Albus could even consider the implications of such an idea, he had already been led by the hand inside the house and up the stairs.

Gellert's bedroom was a psychiatrist's wet dream. Despite it being mid-morning, the heavy curtains were closed and the room would have been almost completely dark if not for the low candles scattered across the room atop various surfaces and piles of clutter. Almost every inch of the wood-panelled walls were covered with posters – some were obviously band posters with large and spiky and usually macabre-sounding names printed across them, some were more ambiguous and looked more like spidery white patterns which apparently had some meaning, and a fair few of them were more pornographic than anything else (Albus noted the presence of both genders in them). There was also a patch of wall with a collection of what looked like newspaper clippings. His natural curiosity kicking in, Albus peered at the cluttered surfaces and noticed an odd mixture of odds and ends, CDs, clothes and accessories, discarded books, general debris, salvaged junk, things that were probably more important than they appeared and things that appeared more valuable than they were probably treated.

"Interesting…" Albus thought aloud, and his hands twitched at the thought of how much he could learn about his enigmatic companion just by closely examining the conditions under which he preferred to live.

"Yeah, Batty had this place looking like a fucking retirement home when I first came here. I personally would rather slit my own throat with a rusty penknife than sleep in a bed with a floral duvet, so I had to make some improvements."

"I see. Now what was your reasoning in bringing me here?"

"Don't play dumb, Al. It doesn't suit you." Gellert hooked his fingers in Albus' belt loops and pulled him so close that it was impossible for their bodies not to be pressing firmly against each other's. Just as Albus opened his mouth to give some sort of strangled attempt at a reply, Gellert kissed him. Unlike their first kiss, which was more curious and brief, this kiss was much more vigorous. Before Albus could even figure out how to reciprocate properly, a warm, wet tongue had barged its way into his mouth and was exploring quite ferociously.

Albus had no idea what to do.

Gellert wrapped his hands firmly around Albus' waist and neck as he manoeuvred the two of them onto the messy and definitely not floral bed across the room, Albus lying flat on his back and Gellert straddling his thighs. Without breaking lip-contact, he attacked Albus' shirt, undoing the buttons at an alarming rate. He briefly fumbled with the pesky bottom button until he gave a grunt of irritation and wrenched the shirt open, the offending button flying off and disappearing into the tangle of bedsheets beneath them. The now undone shirt followed suit, and was haphazardly cast aside onto the bed, floor, whatever.

Just as Gellert's hands flew down to the fly on his trousers, Albus broke the kiss, gasping for air.

"Gel-Gellert!" he spluttered, eyes full of alarm.

"Yeah you're right, I hate it when someone's a lot more naked than the other," Gellert replied, and swiftly pulled his tight black t-shirt off before returning to the tongue-wrestling at hand.

Albus pushed him away. "No, that wasn't my concern at all! I… what are… I don't…"

"Shut up," Gellert said curtly and ran his tongue along Albus' neck, his hand palming the painfully conspicuous bulge in the front of the redhead's trousers. Before Albus could put forward any more incoherent protestations, a ringing sound came form across the room. Pushing the enthusiastic Gellert off of him, Albus darted across the room to where he had dropped his schoolbag and pulled his phone out.

"Hello?"

_"Hey, where are you?"_ it was Aberforth.

"Oh, I… I wasn't feeling well, so I went home."

Out of the corner of his eye, Albus spied Gellert peeling off his leather pants.

_"Oh, so is that why you've been so out of it? Well, get better soon. I just called to say that PE was cancelled because of the rain, so I'll be home early, okay?"_

He wasn't wearing any underwear.

"Oh, uh, okay… bye then."

_"See ya later."_

"Who the fuck was that and were they worth the interruption?" Gellert purred in his ear as he wrapped his arms around Albus' waist.

"I have to go," Albus replied and, trying his best to ignore the substantial erection pressing into his back, disentangled himself from the blonde, grabbed his shirt and half-assedly pulled it on, before grabbing his bag and disappearing down the stairs and out the front door. It was only when he was halfway across the road did it register that it was pouring rain and he would be soaked by the time he crossed the rather short distance to his own house.

"He'll be back," Gellert said to no-one in particular as he flopped back down onto his bed.

* * *

Aww yeahhh. Reviews and shit will be muchos appreciated, you guys, and hopefully the updates will get more frequent now that I've actually gotten to the interesting part of the story =D (though I've got a bitchfuck of exams in the next few weeks, so it won't be _that_ soon…)


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